Safe and Sound
by Kylesviolated
Summary: What might have happened if Tate had been able to save Violet. I don't own American Horror Story, obviously.
1. Chapter 1

I took a deep breath and everything was crystal clear and diamond sharp. The shower head over me was going at full blast. I cried out, it was so _hot. _I tried to move around, my body was almost completely submerged in water. But when I tried to shift out of the way of the shower head, something held me back. I cried out again and twisted my head around.  
Him. He was here. "Tate." I whispered. He looked terrified but pulled me closer.  
"I'm here. I'm here, you're safe." He whispered into my wet hair like a prayer.  
Everything was so confused. What had I done? I couldn't help it, I began to cry.  
"Vi?"  
I couldn't answer. I could barely move. I wanted to get out of the tub. I couldn't even remember getting in in the first place.  
"Vi? We have to get you back upstairs, come on." Tate lifted me up by my underarms and brought me to a standing position. I stood, swaying slightly on my feet. Tate let the water out of the tub and the sucking noise was suddenly too loud in the silence of the basement.  
"I-" My throat hurt. I tried again, but no words came out.  
"We need to get you out of those wet clothes." Tate lifted me out of the tub like I was weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and went to retrieve a towel. I stood there, dripping and weighed down with the layers of clothes soaking wet and much too large. I couldn't stand it. I shed the dress and sweater and shoes and pushed them out of my sight. I stood there in a tank top and boy shorts shivering, but no longer drowning in my clothes. Better, I decided, much better.  
Tate returned within a few moments. He had towel from my bathroom upstairs thrown over his shoulder.  
"Oh, Vi. Vi, come here." He wrapped me up in the towel and held me tight. He made me safe. I felt safe and warm with him. How had resisted before? Why was I so scared of him? He was wonderful. He was the light. 


	2. Chapter 2

Once I was sufficiently dry I stumbled upstairs and drug myself through the halls trying my hardest to not make any noise. Tate keeping me in tow. Everything felt so far away. Nothing felt real. Once my door was closed behind us I felt like I could let out a sigh of relief. Tate watched me like he expected me to fly away and he would have to catch me.

He kept his eyes politely averted as I changed into some dry pajamas. I crawled into bed and he needed no invitation to follow, he simply did.  
"Tate, what happened tonight?" My voice was scratchy, not my own. Tate propped himself up on his elbow and stared without blinking.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

I thought for a moment. "I came home. I came upstairs. . .I took some pills."

Tate's face was tragic. "And I found you . . . you were breathing, but just barely. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do."

I reached out to him, touched his shoulder. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to sleep."

"You took so many, Violet."

I felt tears well up in the back of my throat. "I didn't mean to. I . . .I didn't want to."

"It's this house. It's, it's wrong, Violet, and you shouldn't be here. Not anymore."

My attention had been drifting off. My eyes were getting heavy, lulled nearly to sleep by his even, soothing voice. But that last sentence, it brought me back. What was he saying?

"What- what are you saying?"

"It's too dangerous for you. This house, it is alive and it wants to hurt. To kill. To keep."

"Tate, I can't just leave, I don't know-"

"I will do anything I have to to get you out. I know you think that you're strong enough to handle it but this house nearly got the better of you tonight."

"What about you?"

It hurt me so much to think it. But I knew he was right. I couldn't stay here anymore. And neither could my mom and her baby. None of us were safe.

"Don't worry about me."

But I was worried. Sure he'd been here for years. But from what Constance told me, he had no idea what he'd done, who he'd hurt. And now Addie was dead, really dead. What if he found out about that? He would have to deal with that all on his own.

"My parents have been trying to sell this house for weeks. No one wants it."

"We'll think of something. But you need to sleep now, okay?" Tate kissed my forehead.

"Okay. . .Thank you. For saving me."

There was sacrifice in his eyes, in no time at all I would be gone. And he would be here all alone again. But he had once told me that he cared about his feelings more than mine. And that he would never let anything hurt me. He was going to make good on his promise.

He pulled me into his arms and I buried my head in his shoulder. I was asleep within moments.


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter is going to be Tate's POV. So it's just a little change up.

While he watched Violet sleep he began to formulate a plan. He couldn't wait until morning. He needed to get her out now. She was on the cusp, the house already had a taste for her blood and wouldn't stop until it claimed her. He needed to scare her parents. He needed to scare Ben, scare him enough to leave now.

Tate kissed Violet's forehead and slid out of bed, making sure he didn't wake his sleeping Violet. He took one more look at her over his shoulder, taking her all in. He knew that this was probably the last time he would ever see her. It stung in a way that all of the SWAT's bullets in his chest couldn't. At least the pain had stopped when he died. At least he couldn't even remember that pain. This was going to stay with him forever. He said his final silent goodbyes to Violet before disappearing into the hall.

With tears stinging in his eyes, Tate padded down the hallway to Ben and Vivian's room. He knew that Ben kept a gun in the closet. He'd watched him place it there when they moved in. Tate rooted through the couple's closet until he found the gun case under some of Vivian's shoe boxes. He admired the weight of it, the cold, sleek metal. Tate hadn't held a gun in years. The old feelings came rushing back and Tate had to push them down. _Just get the job done and then try to forget_, he coached himself.

Tate steeled himself and rose to his feet. He walked slowly and with purpose over to Ben's side of the bed. Tate pressed the gun to Ben's temple. He pressed harder until Ben started to stir. Ben's eyes fluttered open and then bugged out when his eyes focused on Tate's face, floating over his in the darkness. Ben opened his mouth to call out but Tate was quick and shoved the end of the gun into Ben's mouth.

"Don't make a sound or I'll blow your fucking brains out. And God help me, if you wake your wife up, I'll kill her and make you watch. Nod if you understand," Tate whispered harshly.

Ben nodded.

"Ben, you have to leave this house. Okay? You're not safe here."

Ben chocked, trying say something. Tate rolled his eyes. Who knew what kind of therapist bullshit Ben was trying to spout off. Tate sure wasn't going to miss his voice.

Tate got right up in Ben's face and hissed menacingly. "Don't you get it, Ben? I was able to get into your house without triggering the alarm. I know where you keep your gun, Ben. You're my therapist, Ben, you know what a fucked up freak I am. I could kill you. All of you. Your pregnant wife," Tate paused for effect. "Your daughter."

Ben jerked, like the thought caused him physical pain. Tate smirked. :If you were smart, which I suspect you are, you would leave tonight. Nod if you understand."

Ben nodded.

Tate smiled, a boyish smile that was so out of place and chilled the room. Tate pulled the gun out of Ben's mouth and took several steps back and held the gun up at shoulder height and let it clatter to the ground. The sound seemed to echo throughout the quiet house. Vivian stirred at the sound and Ben whipped his head around quickly to check on her, during which time Tate took the liberty to disappear from the room.

Tate found himself in the attic. Beau sat huddled in the corner, watching him with dis-configured eyes. Tate smiled down at his brother and knelt down in front of him.

"Wanna play, Beau?"

Beau clapped his hands together excitedly and tossed Tate the red ball. Tate rolled the ball back. He could already hear noise below him. Movement. They were packing up. They were leaving. Good. This was the right thing. The right thing for Violet. Maybe this one unselfish act would help right some of the wrongs he'd done.

"Where's my baby?" A distraught voice wailed from behind him.

Oh. Fuck. Tate had hoped the Harmons would be gone before Nora found out. But the house knows all. Tells all. He should have known. He sighed and got to his feet and turned to Nora. She was standing in the middle of the attic with her long out dated clothes, swaying on her feet like one good breeze would knock her over.

"Nora."

Nora focused in on Tate like she just noticed he was standing there.

"Who are those people down there making so much noise? They're _moving_ things. Those aren't even my things. Where's my baby?"

Tate placed his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay, Nora. Those people are moving out, they're going away."

"I—I thought you made me a baby with that woman down there."

Tate grimaced. He didn't like thinking about that night. "It didn't work, Nora. She lost the baby," the lie came easily. "We'll just have to try again with the next people who move in."

Nora was still so weepy eyed it broke Tate's heart. But he had to keep her and anyone else from trying to keep the Harmons in the house.

"Bullshit."

Tate looked over Nora's shoulder. Chad was standing by the ladder with his hands on his hips. Tate wanted to groan. Not him too. Nora he could handle. He could possibly keep Chad at bay too, that is if Patrick didn't try to jump in.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"That's bullshit and you know it. The baby is alive and well and it belongs to me and Pat."

"Leave them alone, Chad."

Chad arched a bushy eyebrow at Tate, challenging him, before he disappeared. A low, angry growl ripped from Tate's chest as he shoved Nora to the side and rushed down the ladder after Chad.


	4. Chapter 4

I could have been sleeping hours or minutes when the shaking started.

"Violet, honey, wake up. Wake up."

"Mom?"

My eyes focused on my mother's frantic face. Tate, where was Tate? Mom was still shaking me. I had a horrible headache, everything felt wrong and heavy. I struggled to push myself to a sitting position. Mom was already rooting through my closet, looking for something.

"What are you doing, Mom?" She produced a duffle bag from my closet and threw it on the bed.

"We're leaving tonight. We're going to a hotel tonight and we're going to book a flight to Florida. We're going to go stay with Aunt Joe for a while."

"What's happening, Mom? What's going on?" My brain was so foggy, I could barely form a full sentence.

"I'll tell you once we get out of here. Now pack everything you need and we'll go from there. Hurry."

Mom slipped out of my door, leaving me alone. Alone. Where was Tate? This had to have been his doing. He wanted me to leave this house, I just figured it wouldn't be tonight. I wasn't ready. I needed more time. I slid out of bed and emptied the contents of my drawers and closet, all of what would fit in my duffle. I kept looking over my shoulder, hoping that maybe Tate would be there, waiting for me to turn around. Waiting to tell me goodbye.

I pulled on some shoes and exited my room. But it never really felt like my room. And now especially I knew that this room, this house, would never belong to anyone. I scurried down the hall, I could hear my dad calling for me from the ground floor.

"Violet!"

I whipped around in the direction I'd just come. Tate. He was struggling against something invisible. He was pushing, keeping it back with his whole body and it was barely enough. I took a step towards him.

"No, stay back. Get out. All right?"

"Tate, I-"

"I love you, Violet, don't ever forget that, okay? Now go, go please," Tate sounded as if he were near tears.

I nodded, "I love you," and with that, I turned on my heel and raced down the length of the hallway and took the stairs down two at a time. Dad was waiting down at the front door. He was waiting for me, motioning for me to hurry. I raced out and with all the momentum I'd built up, I nearly crashed right into the side of the car. Mom was waiting at the trunk. She took my duffle from me and shoved it in and slammed the door shut. Mom and I piled into the car just as Dad came running from the front door, he jumped into the driver's seat and started backing up the car before the door even closed behind him.

Once we were out of the driveway, we all seemed to let out a collective sigh.

"Dad, what happened back there?"

I just wanted to know how Tate did it. He scared them. He did something bad. My stomach clinched. Tate.

"It wasn't safe there anymore. For any of us."

"It never was, Ben," Mom snapped. "I'm just glad that something finally convinced you."

"Hello? What the hell happened?" Why won't they answer me? I wanted to scream.

"Tate broke in, threatened us. He's sick. It's not safe and I plan on contacting the authorities," Dad said in a rush.

I let out another deep breath. My stomach clenched again. I laid down across the length of the backseat. All I could make myself focus on was the rhythm of my breath. He wasn't sick. He just wanted to help. Help me. But I had to let Dad think that Tate was horrible for the sake of our family. But it hurt. The further I got away from the house, from Tate, the more it hurt. The gap was widening, the ground was cracking, the world was erupting. But. . .but at least we were safe.


End file.
